


In the Hands of the Riders

by Heir_to_the_Shadows



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, alternative universe - tortall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heir_to_the_Shadows/pseuds/Heir_to_the_Shadows
Summary: When Neil made it to Corus, he figured he could finally be safe for a while. The capital city was huge. No one wanted to know his entire backstory. Best of all, it was far away from his father. His plan was simple: meet up with one of his mother's contacts and find safe passage to Carthak where he could find his uncle.Too bad a certain Riders Group laid waste to his carefully prepared plans.An AFTG/Tortall crossover that literally no one asked for.CURRENTLY ON HIATUS UNTIL I GET MY INSPIRATION BACK





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow so this au has been bouncing around in my head for ages. 
> 
> Basically I've stuffed AFTG characters into Tamora Pierce's universe. There will be references to events mentioned in her Tortall as this takes place several decades after the events of Protector of the Small. I've tried to make this story accessible even if you haven't read the series.  
> All canon warnings for both series apply here. This includes references to abuse, rape, drug use, violence and torture. For now, I'm only tagging this as Neil/Andrew since I'm not sure how much emphasis will be placed on other relationships. I'll update tags as I go. If you have any concerns or would like me to add tags, please let me know in the comments!

Neil almost cried in relief as the last man fell to the ground and failed to rise again. He didn’t know if they were dead but frankly he didn’t care. As he ran from the carnage, the adrenaline that had gotten him through the fight began to drain away and his legs trembled more with each stride. He willed his hand to drop the thick piece of wood, but it was like the muscles were locked in place. Using his left, Neil wrenched the fingers of his right hand open and winced. His makeshift weapon left behind several splinters.

He mentally catalogued his injuries: a long but shallow cut along his left side, a deeper cut down his left arm that was still dripping blood and a sharp throbbing along the right side of his jaw. And of course, his hands. He needed to get back to where he had squirreled away bandages and healing salve – preferably before he lost too much blood. For now, he made do by wrapping a handkerchief around his arm and tying it off with his teeth.

He heard the pattern of running feet shod in shoes heavier than what the average commoner could afford. The Provost Guard? More of his father’s men? He tried to pick up the pace, but his body couldn’t quite cooperate at full capacity.

_Run, Abram. Don’t look back!_

“Hey!” A voice called out to him. Male. Middle-aged. Neil felt the panic rise and forced his legs to move faster, sheer will driving him. “Wait, just stop! I just want to talk to you!”

Ha, as if Neil hadn’t heard _that_ one before.

“Mithros, kid, would you just _listen to me_ -“

Neil turned the corner and spotted what looked like a rather busy tavern. Or was it an inn? Either way, the Dancing Dove looked like a promising place to lose himself. He wrenched open the door and slid inside, eyes darting around. The place was packed. Perfect.

He dimly registered a man sitting in a large chair at the center of the hall surrounded by men and women, before spotting a dark corridor at the back of the room. Weaving in and out of tables, serving women and drunks trying to cop a feel, he reached the corridor. He looked back in time to see the door open and a middle aged man enter. Strange, he wasn’t wearing the uniform of the guard nor did he look like one of the Butcher’s men. Just a brown tunic and trousers with a white shirt underneath. Still, time to find another way out of here.

He ran up a nearby staircase and spotted a window in the first room. Neil quickly unlocked it and shimmied it open, peering to the ground down below. A stack of crates lay just below. Perfect.

He crawled out of the window and dropped down as softly as one could from a second story window onto wooden crates while injured. His ankle jarred sharply as he landed and he slowed his pace; he couldn’t risk injuring himself further. When he finally reached the ground he took off again as fast as he could, knowing the man that had followed him would be tied up for a while trying to locate him in that sea of people. His leg began to throb with each stride and the blood seeped through the handkerchief tied around his arm. At least he had lost the other man, he thought as he made his way through a few side streets without meeting anyone.

The relief had just set in when a hard object came in out of nowhere and knocked Neil sideways. The hit was so powerful he hit a nearby wall hard with a sharp gasp. His head made contact with the wooden surface and rebounded sharply, his vision blacking out for a few moments. Disoriented, his tried to get a firm hold on the wall and stay upright, but another hit forced him to the ground. A heavy boot pressed into his back, halting any hope he had of getting up again.

No. He wouldn’t die here.

“Hello, little rabbit. Looks like I caught you in my trap.”

Neil craned his neck to try and see who had him pinned, but all he could make out were the man’s clothes: practical, worn, but well-made. The protection spells woven into the fabric by thread shone brightly in Neil’s vision. From this angle, the barest imprints of sheathed knives were visible on his forearms and upper thighs. Neil guessed there were also knives concealed in the man’s boots.

“Get off of me,” Neil grunted. The longer he lay there, crushed, the more his head throbbed. He wondered distantly if he had a concussion.

“Hrm, I think not,” the man said, putting more weight onto Neil’s back. Neil fought to breathe. “Just sit tight there for a minute or I might accidentally put too much pressure down.”

“Mithros’ shield, Doe,” Neil recognized the man’s voice from several minutes earlier. The name Doe also sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it at the moment. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“But Commander, you said to keep him from running away.” The man above feigned a horribly fake apologetic tone. Neil could almost hear the manic smile. “I’m only following orders.”

“I said to detain him, you fool, not break his back and suffocate him. Let him up.”

“Of course, Commander.”

The pressure left Neil’s back and his arms trembled as he heaved himself up and over into a sitting position. Using the wall, he pulled himself up and stumbled as the blood rushed to his head. As he attempted to control the pace of his breathing, Neil looked up at the men surrounding him and stopped.

Three men stood there, all dressed in similar fashion laced with protective spellwork. The middle-aged man – the Commander – looked exasperated, grumbling about blond midgets that couldn’t follow orders properly. The blond midget in question stood a few feet away, a manic grin adorning his face and he waved a gauntlet clad arm. He and what could only be his twin looked to be about Neil’s age, perhaps a little older. Before he could analyze them any further, a fourth man caught his eye and he froze.

Sir Kevin of Moriyama stood there, glowering at Neil. A sheathed sword hung at his left hip and his shield lay over his back. Last fall, the man broke his hand in a jousting accident while visiting his adopted brother. Apparently, a novice healer was the only one available to attend to him and healed it incorrectly, bringing his short-lived knighthood to a swift end as he could no longer wield a sword well enough for battle. Supposedly, palace healers said they could try to re-break his hand and attempt another healing, but chances of success were minimal. He would have to become proficient with his right hand or never pick up a sword again. Rumor also had it that Tetsuji of Moriyama, the man who oversaw the training of pages at the palace, had offered Sir Kevin a place there as an instructor but been turned down.

Whatever the case, the former knight surprised everyone by going to the Queen’s Riders. Rather than laughing him off, Commander Wymack offered him a spot in the Sixteenth – the Rider’s Group nicknamed the Foxhole Court – led by Group Commander Danielle Wilds. The Sixteenth didn’t engage in much battle and thus didn’t garner much respect outside the Riders. Neil wasn’t sure what they did, but whatever it was, Kevin must have been able to keep up or Commander Wymack would have dropped him.

What made Neil freeze, however, was the fact that Kevin could recognize him. After all, he had _met_ Kevin back when they were children. Kevin and Riko of Moriyama had just finished their second year of page training – something Neil himself was supposed to begin shortly after – when Neil’s father took him to visit them at their fief. Neil shuddered at the memory.

“Wonderful, another obsessed fan of Sir Kevin the Magnificent Knight.”

Neil broke his wide eyed gaze away from Kevin and looked at the man standing closest to him. Now he knew his identity: Andrew Doe, not to be confused with his twin, Aaron Minyard, who stood a little further off. Why they went by different last names, Neil wasn’t sure, but he did know that Andrew was dangerous.

“5 copper bits says he’s also obsessed with Riko,” Aaron snarked, looking bored out of his mind. For some reason, Neil saw Kevin flinch violently in his peripheral vision. Neil began to make miniscule movements to his right in hopes of making a run for it.

“I’ll take that bet,” Andrew said, his smile widening.

"Would you stop your insipid betting?" Kevin snarled.

"Why?" Aaron asked calmly. "Upset that everyone thinks the sun shines out of Riko's backside?"

“Mithros save me from these idiots,” muttered the man that could only be Commander Wymack. Even if the others had not referred to him as “Commander”, the golden ring circling his badge gave him away.

“Why would I be obsessed with Riko of Moriyama?” Neil asked, narrowing his eyes. “He’s arrogant, delusional and I’d rather take my chances unarmed against a spidren than be forced to hear him prattle on about himself.”

The four men stared at him. Neil felt himself shrinking under the attention, realizing he should have just run for it while they were distracted. Why couldn’t he keep his fat mouth shut?

“Oh, you might be interesting after all, little rabbit,” Andrew murmured, holding an open palm towards his brother. Annoyed, Aaron fished out the appropriate number of copper bits and slapped them into Andrew’s palm. “For a little while longer, at least.”

“As much as I would love to stay and chat I’m afraid I’ve got to run,” Neil said with a sharp smile and moved past an unreactive Andrew. Before he could dart past Kevin, the man drew his sword with unbelievable speed and slashed it down in front of Neil. Neil narrowly avoided it, but lost his balance and tumbled to the ground again. 

His ankle gave out as he scrambled to his feet, but Kevin slammed him against a wall before he could fall again.

“We’re not finished speaking with you,” the man scowled.

“What, you think because you’re a noble I have to do what you say? You're just a washed up knight that's the laughingstock of the court. You have no right to keep me here. !” Neil growled, hands grappling against much larger ones holding the front of his tunic.

“You dare speak to a noble like-“

“Like what, asshole?” Neil snapped. “Your fellow riders might put up with your noble shit, but I won't. You have no right to keep me here. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Kevin, let him go,” Wymack called and Kevin obeyed. Neil dropped to the ground as his leg couldn’t support his weight. Wymack sighed loudly. “By the Goddess. Aaron, fix him before he bleeds out.”

Aaron’s Gift glowed brightly in Neil’s vision as the Rider approached him. Neil’s back hit a wall as he scrabbled away from the pool of pale green fire gathering in Aaron’s hands.

“Stop moving, idiot,” the man grumbled as he bent over. A pendant swung on a chain from the folds of his tunic: a black opal. Neil stared at it. Black opals were rare and extremely expensive. How had Aaron been able to afford one?

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt the pain seep out of his cut arm, soon followed by his leg and ankle. The wounds still ached, but it no longer made his head spin. Still, he _hated_ healings. They made him tired and took away his ability to concentrate properly until he got a full night’s rest.

“Shakith,” he cursed, swatting as Aaron’s hand came towards his face. “Stay away from me.”

“Ungrateful bastard, aren’t you?” the man replied. His gift flowed down his arm and concentrated itself in his finger, which he pressed to Neil’s temple. “This should shut you up for a while.”

Neil fought a fruitless battle trying to keep his eyes open. The last thing he registered was the thought that his mother would have _killed_ him for letting himself be caught.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. YA ALL. I am so overwhelmed by all the positive feedback I got from the first chapter! Thank you so much!
> 
> For those of you that aren't familiar with Tamora Pierce's works, I highly encourage you to read them! She has two "worlds" of sorts: Tortall and Emelan. This crossover is based of her books that take place in Tortall, although this fic takes places several decades after the most recent book. Her books should be pretty accessible at your local public library if you are in the US. I've tried my best to include enough exposition to help those that aren't familiar with TP's works, but if you are confused about something, I'll be happy to clarify!
> 
> Please enjoy :)

“-why are we even bothering-“

“-smalls has totally lost it-“

 “Neil, you must listen to me”

“- _another_ attack to the-“

“-just sitting on their asses-“

 “This is a task only you can do”

“-please for the love of-“

 “Do not be hasty in making decisions”

“-he can’t stay-“

“It’s time to wake up now, Neil”

 

Neil forced his eyes open and immediately regretted it. The room was bright with sunlight and his head filled with cotton, the fragments of sentences swirling around in his brain. Had he dreamt that? One voice in particular seemed so persistent but the words were already fading…

He slowly registered the heated argument taking place beside him.

“We know nothing about him. I won’t say it again.”

“But we _need_ him-“

“Did I stutter, Kevin?”

Neil slowly turned his gaze towards the four figures next to his bed.

“Fortunately, it’s not up to you shitheads if he joins,” Wymack said gruffly. “That falls to me.”

“Wonderful, Commander,” Andrew said, that manic smile splitting his face in two. “And I suppose you’ll be the one to deliver the heartfelt eulogies when he stabs us all in the back?”

“Is it really necessary to have this argument in my infirmary?” The only woman in the group remarked.

“Oh, Abby. Dear, dear Abby. Don’t speak when you have nothing to contribute.”

“You’re mad to simply throw away such potential!” Kevin forged on, ignoring the rest of the conversation. “We need recruits that can keep a cool head in a fight. He’s quick on his feet, he knows hand-to-hand, and he can obviously fight with a knife. Those types of skills and reflexes takes years to hone. Years that we don’t have.”

“Commander, please make your men take this outside. They’re going to wake him!”

Neil quickly screwed his eyes shut as the four turned to look at him. No luck.

“Naughty, naughty, eavesdropping on conversations,” Andrew’s voice sounded like he was reciting a child’s nursery rhyme. Neil reluctantly opened his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say something?” The woman (he supposed she must be Abby) tutted. She came over and carefully lifted him into a sitting position. Neil tried not to flinch and failed miserably. Andrew laughed. “You need to drink this.”

Neil almost dropped the cup she thrust into hands. Studying it, he made that mental sidestep to see if the cup glowed red with poison. Nothing. He sniffed it cautiously, trying to identify the ingredients, and narrowed his eyes at the healer.

“What is this?”

Abby opened her mouth to answer, but Andrew interrupted.

“Oh, what a paranoid little rabbit we caught, Kevin! Not very bright, is he?”

“Excuse me?” Neil snapped. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to accept things from strangers?”

Neil hadn’t thought it possible, but Andrew’s smile widened even further.

“My mother wasn’t very bright either. I’m afraid she never got the chance to warn me before her rather unexpected end."

“Mithros,” Wymack grumbled. “If we were going to poison you, we'd have have saved ourselves all this trouble and just killed you last night."

"Commander!" Abby scolded.

"You’re in the infirmary at the Riders’ headquarters," Wymack said, rolling his eyes. "That’s a standard brew to help clear out all the fog in your head most people get after a healing. Do you need me to sample it before you’ll believe me?”

Neil shook his head and downed the liquid in a few gulps. Not the most appetizing thing in the world, but he had certainly tasted worse things. Wymack hadn't lied; the brew did clear his head.

“Good, looks like you _can_ obey orders, which the gods know is more than I can say about you two,” Wymack glowered at Andrew and Kevin. “Don’t you have recruits to terrorize?”

“Commander, I’m absolutely wounded that you would accuse us of such things.”

“Then hop to it before I make you run laps around the compound until you drop.”

“Of course, Commander,” Kevin said before Andrew could dig himself further into his hole. “And you’d better listen,” he added, turning to Neil. “It’s not every day that the Commander himself recommends someone to the Riders. You would be wise to take his offer.” Head held high, Kevin swept from the infirmary. Andrew followed close behind, but offered one final parting shot.

“Have fun with the Commander, little rabbit! I hear that when rabbits are under too much stress, their hearts explode!” Neil’s glare only solicited laughter and a two finger salute. Wymack sighed heavily.

“By the gods, I don’t know what I was thinking letting that monster join.”

Neil said nothing, gripping the empty cup in his hand.

“Since our only patient is awake and sane, I think I’ll take my leave,” Abby said. “Send someone for me if I’m needed?”

Wymack nodded in assent and the Healer left them Neil alone with the older man. He gripped on to the empty cup in his hands, trying not to panic. His few interactions with men of Wymack's age had never ended well.

“Well, to business. As you might have guessed due to sir loudmouth, I want to offer you a place in the Riders. We’re down a member in the Sixteenth and I don’t think any of the new recruits could handle that group.”

“But you think I can?” Neil asked, studying the scuffmarks on the cup while keeping Wymack in his peripheral vision.

“You know what the Riders do, kid?” Neil bristled slightly as being called a kid, but nodded his head.

“The Riders are small groups of fighters that do what larger groups can’t,” Neil recited quietly. “They mostly scout or patrol places with difficult terrain. Sometimes they work with the King’s Own or are folded into the forces at a Fortress. The Sixteenth is nicknamed the Foxes or the Foxhole Court.”

“Got it in one, kid,” Wymack said.

“I don’t see what this has to do with me. What makes you think I even want to join?”

“I’m going to be straight with you; we’re in a bit of a bind,” Wymack sank into the empty chair next to Neil’s bed. “About a year ago, we began receiving reports of hit and run attacks to the south. Tiny villages were looted. No one was killed, but local enforcements couldn’t find the ones responsible. A bit unusual, but we can't catch every rogue hillman. But lately, the attacks have been increasing in number and have spread all over Tortall.  People are starting to get upset, wondering why the Crown’s been sitting on their thumbs doing nothing. But the truth is, we’ve got our best _everywhere_ looking for the people behind this and nothing.

The thing is, it’s impossible for one group to be making all of these hits. What’s more, quartermasters at the palace and fortresses all over have reported missing weapons and supplies. Same thing: not a trace of the ones responsible. Whoever these people are, they’ve access to money and some serious magic. The royal council believes that one of our neighbors has decided to try and weaken Tortall in preparation for an invasion. Since coastal raids have been through the roof this year, they're suspecting one of the island nations.”

“But you think it’s internal,” Neil guessed. “You think there’s nobles involved. And mages, from the City of the Gods or the University at Carthak. And perhaps even someone high up in the King’s Own.”

“I _had_ wondered if our local Rogue was somehow involved,” Wymack admitted. “But frankly, he’s too fresh and not nearly clever enough to be involved in something like this.”

Neil froze at the mention of the Corus Rogue. He tried not to think of another Rogue he knew intimately and forced himself to keep his breathing even.

“What does this have to with me?” Neil asked with a sinking suspicion.

“I’m putting the Sixteenth on the hunt,” Wymack directly. “I know they don’t have the best reputation, but they got it where it counts and no one will expect me to give this assignment to them. While the Own and the other Riders Groups clank around and make a bunch of noise. Hopefully, they'll keep the attention of whoever is behind these attacks and the Sixteenth can work more covertly. They’re down a fighter and I need someone that can think on their feet. Someone that can blend in and knows how to get lost in a crowd. We were following a tip and came across your little skirmish. You’ve got a lot of skill, kid. We could really use someone like you.”

“I’m not interested,” Neil said honestly.

“The job pays well and it’ll put a roof over your head,” Wymack continued, ignoring Neil’s answer “Whoever you’re running from will have a difficult time getting at you here.”

Neil stopped the retort on the tip of his tongue. That was true. His father’s men would have a hard time killing him at the Riders headquarters. But what about when they were on the road, miles from any town? That was a different story and far too risky.

“I’m sorry that you’re in such a sorry state that you need to kidnap people off the street, but I’m still not interested.”

“Look, kid-“

“Will you stop calling me a kid? I have a name and I’m of age.”

“Mithros, you’re sensitive,” Wymack grumbled. “Look, kid-“

“ _Neil_ ,” he growled.

“Fine, Neil-“

“Commander!”

A young woman with dark skin and short cropped hair walked without hesitation into the infirmary.

“Yes, Wilds?”

“You’re needed on the training grounds, Commander,” she said firmly, casting a curious glance in Neil’s direction. Neil looked pointedly down at the cup still nestled in his hands.

“I swear to Mithros above, if that blond monster has started something again, I’ll wring his neck,” Wymack groaned like a man heading to his death as he got to his feet. “Lead on, Wilds,” he said and followed her out.

Finally, Neil was alone.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, twirling the cup in his hands. To the world, he might look like he was resting, but his brain was working quickly. Several immediate escape plans flitted through his mind, each quickly discarded to his ever growing frustration.

Fact: Neil was at the Riders Headquarters, located somewhere between the Palace and the Royal Forest

Fact: There were people invested in keeping him around, including the Commander and a former knight that would present a problem if they caught him trying to leave

Fact: He was fully recovered from his fight last night, but had no weapons and no proper clothing in sight for him to steal

Fact: He could absolutely not afford to stay here

Escaping shouldn’t be too difficult, Neil concluded, if he was patient. He would lay low for a few days, maybe a week; make Wymack and the others believe he would join the Riders so they’d ease up on watching him, then make a break for it. Once he escaped, he’d resume his original plan: find his mother’s contact, make his way south and board the next ship to Carthak where he could find his uncle.

Neil didn’t know why his mother had refused her brother’s help seven years ago, but he didn’t agree with her decision. While Neil was grateful that his mother had kept him alive all these years, he questioned her decision to refuse the best protection offered. His father’s men would not be able to touch him while under the protection of his uncle or they’d risk bringing the entire house of Hatford down on their shoulders. Belonging to the Carthaki royal household granted you certain privileges.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. An unfamiliar man strode into the infirmary and Neil tensed, unable to help himself. The man was clearly a noble, going by his clothing and jewelry. The man was also older, alone, and looked to be unarmed, but Neil knew that appearances could be deceiving.

“Might I sit here?” the man asked in a low, gravelly voice as he approached Neil’s bed. “I confess I’m not as young as I once was and riding all morning on horseback has tired me out.”

Neil narrowed his eyes.  He was doing that quite a bit today.

“Nobles normally don’t bother asking for anything, they just do as they please.”

The man stared at him for several moments and then burst out in laughter.

“Gods, I can’t remember the last time someone had the guts to speak to me like that. This trip will have been worth it just for that.”

“So happy I can provide you with entertainment,” Neil grumbled. He studied the man, who settled in the chair. Neil looked for anything that would help him identify the man but came up short. He met the mans eyes and found him studying Neil just as intently.

“Neil Josten. Arrived in Corus a fortnight ago traveling from Tusaine. Currently sleeping under a shop’s doorstop on Spindle Lane. Involved in quite the scuffle last evening that resulted in 3 casualties and 1 fatality.”

“You seem to be well informed,” Neil said evenly, squeezing the cup in his hands so they wouldn’t tremble. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”

“It _is_ my job to be informed,” the man said and then chuckled at his own inside joke. “Neil- may I call you Neil? Or would you prefer Nathaniel?”

The cup slipped from Neil’s boneless fingers and clattered as it hit the floor. What little liquid was left splattered over the man’s riding boots. The man ignored the stains in favor of watching Neil's reaction.

“You’re Charles of Whittier, the King’s Spymaster,” Neil whispered hoarsely, his entire world falling out beneath his feet. Oh, his mother would have slaughtered him if she were still alive. He was so, _so_ stupid.

“Mm, _Sir_ Charles of Whittier, but yes. And you’re Nathaniel Wesninski, son of Nathan Wesninski, the former Rogue of Port Legann. I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, I'm so happy about the response this is getting! I had no idea there were so many people in this fandom that read Tamora Pierce. Thank you for all of your kudos and comments! 
> 
> This chapter sets up the main plot of the story. Again, if you have questions or notice any mistakes, please comment! I don't have a beta and I've found that if I don't put up a chapter soon after I complete it, I'll stare at it forever and never publish it! The unavoidable downside is that there will be mistakes I don't catch. My goal is to update every Tuesday.
> 
> It should be obvious by the end of this chapter, but this story is not going to parallel the timeline in AFTG. I will do my best to keep everyone in character (although some I've taken certain liberties with more unknown characters, like Charles Whittier), but certain characters will show up in unexpected places and roles, and certain events can't feasibly happen within this AU. Just so ya know.
> 
> Thanks again and enjoy :)

Neil stared at Charles of Whittier in horror. He knew it was far too late to feign ignorance – his reaction had already given him away – but he had no idea how to respond. The idea that _he_ would be on the radar of the King’s Spymaster had never even occurred to him. What could someone like Neil possibly offer the man that oversaw the entire country’s network of spies?

Then another thought made Neil pale even further. The man had hundreds, if not thousands of field agents working for him both within Tortall and in all the neighboring countries. If Whittier had been keeping tabs on him all these years, as the man seemed to imply, how many of his agents knew about Neil? How many worked as double agents for his father? Neil squeezed his eyes shut to try and center himself. He couldn’t afford to have a panic attack in front of this man.

Whittier interrupted Neil’s attempt to collect himself. “You never answered my question.”

“Stop with the niceties,” Neil snapped on autopilot, opening his eyes. Whittier’s amused tone pulled Neil out of his impending panic enough for him to respond. “If you knew I was here in Corus, you could have dragged me up here over a week ago. What do you want with me?”

Whittier stared at Neil, as though sizing him up. When he opened his mouth, Neil quickly added “And don’t try and bullshit me with pity or whatever. Just tell me what you want.”

Silence reigned for several moments. Whittier seemed to be recalculating his strategy as he looked at Neil with new appreciation, a small smile on his face.

“Very well,” he said and pulled a sheaf of papers from his tunic. Neil wondered if Whittier had ridden all morning with them hidden, or if he had simply placed them there before entering the infirmary for dramatic effect. Whittier began shuffling through the papers and Neil stared, unimpressed, just barely halting a major eye roll. Finally, Whittier stopped on a report.

“Nathan Wesninski, last seen heading northeast towards the City of the Gods just under two years ago. Only he never made it there. He disappeared somewhere along the Great Road North and has not been seen since.” Whittier looked up at Neil, clearly looking for a reaction to the Butcher’s name. Neil didn’t give him the pleasure and Whittier continued: “Mary, formerly of the Hartfords of Carthak, also disappeared at that time. I have fielded several frantic letters from her brother, Stuart, who is anxious for news of the two of you.”

 _That_ got Neil’s attention.

“That doesn’t tell me what you want from me or why I’m being put through this ridiculous charade,” Neil said quietly, brain whirring. His mother’s disappearance was easily explained: it was difficult to be seen when you were dead and your corpse burnt to ashes. His father’s disappearance, however, was new information. It explained why Neil hadn’t run into him personally since his mother’s death.

“If I had the Provost Guard pick you up, you would have been dead by now,” Whittier said slowly, as though he were explaining something to a small child. Neil bristled at the tone. “You of all people should know that holding cells in the cages are not the most secure of locations. I had one of my birdie’s tip Commander Wymack to your presence with the suggestion that there was a fair candidate for the Riders newly arrived in Corus. It wasn't terribly difficult to guess where you would be last night based on your movements the last two weeks. As to what I want from you, all I need is an answer to a simple question: do you know the whereabouts of either of your parents?”

Neil was silent for several moments, furious with himself for being predictable and afraid to say anything that could compromise himself. He could lie. Whitter was well known for possessing an all-purpose Gift. Even if he had some sort of talisman that enabled him to spot lies on others, Neil’s own Sight protected him against such magics. Whittier couldn’t possibly know that Neil possessed the Sight. Only his mother had ever known and she had taken great pains to conceal this knowledge from everyone, including his father.

“I don’t have any idea where my father is,” Neil said, carefully maintaining steady eye contact. Not a complete lie, but Neil didn’t dare mention his father’s nebulous connections. “My mother was killed by my father when we were fleeing to the City of the Gods. I don’t know what happened to her body.” Another partial truth, but Whittier didn’t deserve to have Neil recount that part of his life.”

Whittier hardened his stare. “I find it quite difficult to believe that you have _no_ notion of where your father might be holed up.”

Oh, he was good, Neil thought. Then again, Whittier couldn’t be a complete idiot and have held onto the title of Spymaster for two decades. The trouble was, Neil’s father could only have remained hidden for so long if he had help from a noble family. He was surprised that Whittier hadn’t asked about his father’s associates among the nobles. Then again, nobles were strange. To them, it was impossible that one of their own would conceal a lowly commoner from the law.  

And as a commoner, no one would take Neil’s word on this matter. Even if Neil had irrefutable proof (which of course, he did not), a Lord simply had to remain at their own fief and the Crown would have to gain permission from the royal council to search the fief. Even if the royal council _did_ agree to the search (a big if, considering how much the nobles would protest to one of their own being treated like a common criminal), Neil’s father would be safely squirreled away elsewhere by the time the council came to a decision.

“I don’t have any information that could tell you where he is,” Neil maintained. He couldn’t name any noble families without proof. That was suicidal.

“I think you do,” Whittier insisted and Neil silently cursed him out. “And you will help us locate your father.”

“I told you, I don’t know where he is!”

“No doubt, Commander Wymack has asked you to join the Riders?” Whittier asked. The sudden change of topic made Neil’s experience a mental whiplash. “I would like you to take his offer.”

An involuntary scoff burst out. “Thanks, but no. If you know who I am than you know who is after me. It’s a death sentence.”

“Ah, forgive me, Nathaniel-“

“ _Neil_.”

“Of course, Neil,” the small smile returned to Whittier’s face. “I believe I misspoke out of courtesy. You _will_ take Commander Wymack’s offer and join the Riders.”

“Excuse me?” Neil said, anger coloring his voice.

“It’s quite simple. You will join the Riders and help me locate your father or I will turn you over to the Lord Provost and let him and his cage dogs extract whatever useful information they can out of you.”

Neil shuddered with horror. The cage dogs in the Provost Guard were notorious for their methods of torturing criminals. They were very, very careful not to let their informants die before extracting every bit of information possible. They also were not opposed to bribery. Even if they planned to let Neil go, it would be child’s play for his father’s men to buy their way into the cages and kill him.

“I knew there were dirty nobles that turned innocents over to the dogs out of spite,” Neil said bitterly. “But I wouldn’t have taken you for one of them. Doesn’t seem to be an effective way to inspire loyalty.”

“You’re hardly innocent. There are three injured men and a dead body from last night alone to attest to that.”

“You nobles are all the same,” Neil snarled. “You spout all this shit about commoners helping you because it’s the right thing to do, but you only do something when there’s something in it for you. When we don’t do what you want, we’re the ones who pay the price.”

“Your father is the key to unraveling several crime rings that we’ve been chasing for years. There are bigger things at stake than you.”

“Oh, yes, insult me. That’s sure to make me agree.”

“You can run your mouth all you like. It doesn’t change the fact that you will be help me find your father.”

“Why can’t you use your own birdies? Or are they too incompetent to find one old man?”

“I can’t continue to trust them with this assignment. I’ve officially stopped the search,” Whittier admitted unexpectedly, all the fight leaving him. “All of the agents I’ve sent have either gone missing or had absolutely nothing to report. Someone is leaking information. Whoever that is has clearly turned their loyalties to someone with money and access to a strong mage. I will not risk any more of my men until I’ve ferreted out the spy.”

Neil sat there, furious. So the man didn’t want to risk his agents’ lives – agents that knew the risks the job entailed and were _paid_ for their work – but Whittier expected Neil to risk his own life for no compensation? He hated nobles. If he could do away with them all, he would do so in a heartbeat. He realized he would inevitably agree to Whittier's request, but he changed tactics for one final attempt.

"You said you've been following my movements for some time. If you do have double agents, they've probably already sold out my new location to my father. He'll know we've been in contact. I'll not be much help that way."

"Ah,  _that_ I can assure you, has not happened yet. I've taken great pains to conceal your true identity from my field agents. All I gave them was a face and whatever false name you were under. I could not risk one of them selling you out until I knew whether or not I had use for you."

Surprisingly, Neil was not reassured.

He mentally sighed, already regretting his next sentence. “I want safe passage to my uncle.”

Whittier laughed without humor. “I don’t think you are in a position to negotiate-”

“That’s a lie,” Neil shot back. “You clearly need me or you wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to make sure Wymack found me and brought me here. You’ve admitted that I have a use and you’ve exhausted all your other options so you’re willing to take a chance on me. I’m not going to risk my life and get nothing in return.”

“I can always send you to the cage dogs…” Whittier trailed off. This time, Neil actually rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“Please, spare me the threats. You need me, but I don’t need you.”

The two men stared at each other, waiting for the other to break first. Neil won.

“Very well, you will be granted safe passage to Carthak once your father has been found.”

“I want a formal contract written up, with your seal and everything” Neil added quickly. “I’m not going to go through all this trouble only for you to deny you ever agreed to this deal.”

“You dare suggest that I would not keep my word?”

“By the gods, are nobles this dense? I can’t believe you work with commoners with that attitude and are still alive,” Neil groaned. “Inform my uncle in whatever encrypted code necessary, that you have located me and have made this deal and then wait for a reply acknowledging this.” Whittier opened his mouth, but Neil spoke over him. “If you refuse, I’ll know you never intended to keep your end of the bargain and I"ll take my chances with the cage dogs. My whole body is a testament the kind of “care” my father and his men offered. You won’t get anything useful out of me before the cage dogs accidentally kill me.”

Neil waited for Whittier to respond, praying to whatever gods were listening that the man wouldn’t call his bluff. The idea that Neil could survive the cages was laughable. Whittier waited for several moments before nodding.

“Very well, I agree to your terms.”

He held out his hand to shake on it in commoner’s fashion and Neil automatically met it with his own. Whittier tightened his grip suddenly and the dazzling yellow of the man’s Gift appeared in Neil’s Sight, flowing down his arm. He frantically tried to tug his hand out of Whittier’s grip, but the man held on as his Gift covered their joined hands for several seconds. As soon as Whittier’s grip loosened, Neil ripped his hand away.

“What did you do?” He gasped.

“What I had to,” Whittier replied. “You will not be able to speak of this conversation to anyone, including your fellow Riders. If you do, you will die. If you are captured and a truthteller tries to force you to speak using their Gift, you will die.”

“It’s illegal to use your Gift on someone unwilling,” Neil said, incensed beyond words.

“And who would believe you?” Whittier countered, rising to his feet. “No one but you and I know that I have spoken you to. I imagine they’re too busy focusing on the slight crisis that the Commander is currently dealing with. To anyone else, I am simply visiting my old friend, Commander Wymack, and observing the new recruits. I will inform you when I have heard from your uncle.”

“How the hell am I supposed to find my father if I’m stuck with a bunch of Riders that don’t know anything about this?”

“I will ensure that your missions within the Sixteenth take you to several places your father has been known to visit in the past. You’ve proven yourself to be quite the resourceful person. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

With that, Whittier walked out, leaving Neil sputtering in the empty infirmary. Neil had underestimated the man. Never again.

He fucking _hated_ nobles.  
  
\------------  
  
Twenty minutes later, Abby and Wymack re-entered the infirmary together.

“Good, you’re still here,” Wymack said gruffly. “What’s it going to be, Neil? Training for the new recruits has already started so if you’re staying I’ll need to arrange something so you can catch up.”

Neil stared at his hands in his lap, studying the old knife scar at the base of his left thumb. His mother’s voice rang in his head, telling him to do the smart thing and run while he had the chance. Whittier had put magic on Neil, but the magic only forbad him from speaking about their conversation. It didn’t inhibit him from backing out of the agreement and running to his uncle. He should just leave this whole mess with his father behind for the Crown to deal with. Surely someone existed in Carthak that could remove Whittier’s magic from him.

Except Neil knew that he probably _was_ the only one that could find his father. Whittier knew that nobles were involved, and he knew that Neil had some idea of where to look. Whittier was also dealing with the hit and run attacks across the country. He didn't have the resource to spare looking for the Butcher. If Neil worked with the Riders and got close enough, his father would come for him. He wasn’t exactly sure how his position in the Riders was supposed to help him, but he would have to figure something out.

Above all, Neil realized that he was tired of running and living in fear of his father. Even if Neil made it safely to Carthak, he would never truly be at peace. He would spend the rest of his life – however long that ended up being – constantly looking over his shoulder. At least this way, death would come for him head on.

_Don’t do it._

Neil looked up at Wymack.

_Don’t be a fool, Abram!_

_I’m sorry, mother._

“I’ll do it. I’ll join the Riders.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This chapter is totally not edited, so it's probably rife with mistakes >.< I'll fix those when I get a chance. I just wanted to make sure I got this chapter out on time! Thanks for the kudos and comments! They are much appreciated :) 
> 
> Only warning for this chapter is Aaron being the lovely homophobic asshole he is canonically :) :)

“Wonderful!” Wymack clapped his hands and stood up. “Abby, give him another check over and clear him for training if he’s ready. I’ll send someone from the Foxes to give him a tour of the compound. Oh, and ask him the usual.”

“Of course, Commander,” Abby said cheerfully and waved Wymack out of the room.

“The usual?” Neil asked hesitantly as the healer came up next to him.

Instead of answering his question, she asked: “May I touch your head?” When Neil nodded, he sharpened his Sight to see what she was going to do. Pale yellow fire of her gift streamed down to the hand resting on his temple and over his entire body. She closed her eyes in concentration. After several seconds, she retreated and smiled.

“Everything looks good! As long as you’re up to it, I’m comfortable with letting you train.”

“What did he mean by asking me the usual?” Neil repeated his question.

“Ah, just the standard questions we ask all new recruits. No need to worry!” She said quickly and Neil realized his apprehension must be showing. “We just want to make sure you can read and write, otherwise we’ll assign you work at the palace until you can do so.”

“I can do both,” Neil said with a mental sigh of relief. There was no way he was stepping foot in the palace if he could avoid it.  He had dealt with enough of nobles to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.

“And since you’ve missed the beginning of training, I should ask if you know how to ride a horse and what weapons you’re good with. Oh, and recruits with the Gift have additional training.”

“I’ve ridden a horse,” Neil said quietly. It’s how he and his mother had originally escaped their father. “And I’m a fair hand with- with knives and a crossbow. But, I don’t have the Gift.” He wasn’t going to tell anyone he had the Sight unless he had no other choice. Besides, the Sight wasn’t _really_ the Gift. People with the Sight could use it instinctually so there wasn’t a need to train it.

“We can work with that,” Abby said, smiling widely. “We’re happy to have you. The Commander says you’ve got good reflexes and stamina, which a lot of the new recruits don’t have when they get here. As long as you can handle the schedule and follow orders, I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“I hope so. Um- can I get out of this bed, please?”

“Oh, sorry, of course!”

Neil swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He clasped his hands and stretched them up over his head, marveling at lack of even a twinge of pain. A loud voice from behind Abby made Neil jump slightly.

“Abby, my darling, where is this new recruit I’ve been hearing so much about!”

A tall man with brown skin and standard Riders attire leaned against the door frame in a dramatic Player’s fashion. His black (or was it dark brown?) hair tumbled over his forehead in semi-tight curls and his brown eyes lit up when he spotted Neil still mid-stretch.

“Well aren’t you a welcome sight! It’s been far too long since I’ve seen such a gorgeous face. Please tell me you don’t have a lover waiting for you at home!”

Neil’s eyes widened in panic. He scrambled for the charm around his neck and deflated in relief when he found it still there. He had paid several gold nobles for a spell that would disguise his true appearance. Unfortunately for Neil, auburn hair and blue eyes stood out a bit too well. Brown eyes and brown hair was much better for blending into the background. He silently offered a prayer of thanks that Abby hadn’t removed it.  

“Hemmick, the Commander sent you here to show Neil around, not to proposition him. I won’t have you changing his mind about joining before he’s even started!” Abby said firmly, her back to Neil’s moment of panic.

“But Abby,” Hemmick whined, drawing out the end of the healer’s name.

“Are you a Rider or a child? Quit complaining or I’ll put you on latrine duty for a week!”

“Ma’am! Yes, ma’am!” Hemmick said quickly, throwing a salute.

Abby did not look impressed. “I’ll leave Neil in your… questionable care. I’ll be with the trainees for the rest of the afternoon if someone needs me.” She left Neil alone with Hemmick and the man wasted no time bouncing up to Neil and getting in his face. He tried not to flinch as Nicky unexpectedly grabbed his hand and shook it rather violently in what was supposed to be a greeting.

“I’m Nicky! Well, it’s actually Nicholas – but no one except my parents call me that – so it’s Nicky to everyone else! I’m with the Sixteenth, the Foxes! But I bet you probably already knew that? Wymack told me to show you around and get you settled in the barracks. Normally you would bunk with the new recruits, but Andrew wants you with us so with us you’ll go! I heard you met them last night? Sorry about my cousins. They can be needlessly dramatic. I don’t know where they get it from.”

The man was clearly a rambler, Neil thought as he tried to comprehend everything being thrown at him. One word made it through first.

“Cousins?”

“Yep, Andrew and Aaron! Don’t you see the resemblance?” Nicky looked at him expectedly, as though Neil was actually supposed to find something in common between this tall, dark featured man and two short blondes.

“Um, no, actually.”

Nicky busted out laughing. “Sorry, sorry! The look on your face! We don’t look anything alike, but the twins _are_ my cousins. I’m pretty sure their father was Scanran, which would explain a lot. Their mother was my father’s sister. But I take after _my_ own mother. She’s from the Sunset Dragon; it’s a Bazhir tribe near Persopolis. But anyways, let’s show you around! There’s not too much to see so it’ll be quick.”

Neil allowed himself to be shuffled out of the infirmary and into the hall. As they walked, Nicky told him what was what.

“So there’s the mess hall! You missed lunch, but we’ll be there for dinner. The recruits are usually too tired to make too much noise, but you can sit with us! The Foxes are the only Rider group here right now, so we don’t have to fight for room. That’s the supply room. We’ll stop by later to get you properly kitted out. For now, it’ll just be clothes and basic gear. The recruits are doing all their book learning now until summer training begins.”

“Book learning?”

“Well, it’s not really _books_ or anything. More like skills and information that can be taught in more enclosed spaces. Last week’s lesson, they made the recruits learn how to stitch themselves back up. _Without_ anything to numb the pain.” Neil shuddered violently, but Nicky didn’t notice and continued his stream of consciousness tour.

“Once summer starts, we’ll take you to the training site for this year and you’ll learn all sorts of things! Poisons, making medicine, identifying edible plants, tracking and hunting, reading maps and drawing ones of the local terrain. And then there’s battle tactics, weapons and hand to hand combat – although it sounds like you’ve got that down pat – and you’ll also learn how to _teach_ combat and tactics since we sometimes have to teach locals how to defend themselves. The Riders and the Own can’t be everywhere all the time!”

To Neil’s confusion, Nicky laughed like he’d made a joke.

“Oh, and those stairs lead up to the Riders’ quarters. Men through the yellow door, women through the green. Don’t be trying to sneak into the women’s quarters. They’ll kick you out of the Riders soon as can be, if you’re not already dead from the beating the women will give you.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Neil said as they exited the building and found themselves on a covered walkway. Out to his left, fences enclosed areas of the meadow and recruits were clearly being put through their paces. To his right, Neil saw a dirt road that led up a hill towards more stables. The palace itself dominated the space behind. Neil shuddered as he realized he would never have made it off the palace grounds before being caught.

The walkway lead to another long building that had to be the stables, judging by the smell.

“Trust me, those girls can whump you quicker than you can blink!” Nicky said, misunderstanding Neil’s words.

“That’s not what I meant,” Neil said as they entered the stables. The smell of horses almost choked him along with his memories of the last time he had ridden a horse. “I’m not interested in women.”

Nicky’s eyes crinkled in delight, his smile was so wide. “I _knew_ you swung my way! Thank goodness Erik doesn’t mind sharing!”        

“Can you stop thinking with your dick for five minutes?” an angry voice burst from further down. “It’s disgusting watching you hit on everything male.”

Neil peered around Nicky and spotted Kevin, Andrew and Aaron grooming their mounts. Kevin stared at Neil, probably trying to assess him somehow, Neil thought with a mental eye roll. One of the twins had spoken, although Neil wasn’t sure which one it was. He looked for that manic smile but it wasn’t on either face. One looked like he was ready to throw his grooming brush at Nicky’s head and the other ignored everyone else, continuing to groom his horse with a bored expression.

“Oh, Aaron, you’re just jealous because you don’t have someone waiting for you!”

Nicky’s smile was strained, and Neil could tell that Aaron’s words had hurt him.

“I’m not – I don’t care for men either.” Everybody turned to stare at Neil, even Andrew.

“What?” Nicky said, looking as though someone had just deprived him of a sweet treat. “How can you not like women _or_ men? You have to swing one way!”

“I don’t swing. _At all_.” Neil’s voice left no room for argument, or so he thought.

“But-”

“Drop it, Nicky,” Andrew finally spoke up and Neil stared at him. Andrew’s eyes looked completely dead. Nicky squeaked a small “okay” and began to herd Neil past the small group. Neil watched as Andrew went back to grooming his pony. For such a violent man, he was surprisingly gentle with his mount.

Kevin reached out and grabbed Nicky’s shoulder. “I’ve picked out two mounts that should suit him. They’re over there.” He pointed to two stalls across from him. Neil turned and saw two ponies. One was a blue roan, a mottled black and white mixture, and other looked to be a tan mare.

“Here,” Nicky said, dumping a few apples into Neil’s hands. “Go say hello.”

Neil approached the blue roan first, carefully offering an apple. The pony made quick work of it and tried to inspect Neil’s pockets for more. Neil maneuvered the pony’s face away and gently blew into his nostrils. He let out of quick laugh as the pony returned the favor. Neil performed the same introductory rituals with the tan mare and soon his apples were gone.

“Can we walk them for a bit?” Neil asked Nicky, who was looking at him with a sappy expression, to Neil’s confusion.

“Sure!” Nicky said, and rushed to grab the reins hanging from the mare. Neil grabbed the reins of the blue roan and they led them outside.

As they walked the ponies around the fenced area, Neil tuned out Nicky’s mindless chattering. His mind was on Andrew and the man’s whiplash inducing behavior. It was as if Andrew’s personality was split into two and Neil just could not believe they were the same person.

“Nicky,” Neil said, halting Nicky mid-sentence. “Sorry, I was just wondering… about Andrew?”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t realize today was one of his sober days or I would have steered clear.”

“Sober days?” Neil said, confusion growing even further.

“Ah, right, you don’t know about Andrews um – _situation_.” Nicky said the last word delicately. “So um, the “powers that be” said that one of the conditions for Andrew permanently joining the riders was that he be put on some sort of medicinal regimen and be closely monitored by one of the palace mind healers. That was about two years ago, I think.”

“So they keep him drugged?” Neil asked, horrified.

“There was an – uh – _incident_ during our trial year that caused quite a bit of trouble and the Provost Guard got involved. Someone complained to someone else who complained to someone else and soon the royal council got involved. Since my father’s high up in the Provost Guard, people were saying that he was showing favoritism by trying to sweep his nephew’s “crimes” under the rug. Never mind that Andrew was only defending me from those _assholes_ -” He stopped for a moment to collect himself. “Anyways, they make him take this stuff that’s supposed to keep him even keeled and stop him from going berserk on everyone. Only problem is, it makes him… not all there. I’m not even sure how it works to be honest.”

“That sounds awful.”

“I suppose, but he’s worse when he’s sober, as you saw.” Nicky said. “Lady Dobson – the mind healer – convinced the council about a fortnight ago to start weaning him off this stuff. So he’s skipping one dose a day for a while and the Foxes are stuck on palace duty until he’s completely off.”

That would explain why the Sixteenth would be joining the recruits for summer training, Neil thought. He found himself thinking about Andrew’s shitty situation. The man swung between mania and dead-eyed sobriety. Despite Nicky’s thoughts on the matter, Neil thought being constantly drugged was definitely the worse of the two.

“Looks like the recruits are finishing up over there!” Nicky’s voice that obnoxiously cheerful tone once again. “That means they’ll be washing up for dinner after they’ve tended to their mounts. Let’s get yours back in before they all crowd.”

Kevin and the twins were gone when they re-entered the stables. Nicky helped Neil out by grooming the mare while Neil tended to the roan.

“You’re pretty good with horses for a recruit,” Nicky said, inspecting Neil’s work. “Have you worked with them before?”

“Not exactly,” Neil said carefully. “When I was younger, my mother taught me how to ride and care for them. I guess the lessons stuck.”

“Just remember to check his hooves for stones and such!”

They finished tending the ponies. The doors at the end of the stables opened and young men and women in their late teens and early twenties piled in leading their horses. Nicky headed towards the other side and Neil took that as his cue to follow.

“Do you want to wash before dinner? We can go together.”

Neil froze. “I’m not comfortable washing in front of others.”

“Aww,” Nicky cooed, to Neil’s discomfort. They headed back towards the barracks under the covered walkway. “You don’t have to be shy! We’re all men. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“I’m not going to do it, so please drop it,” Neil said angrily and stormed past Nicky.

“Okay, okay!” Nicky said hurrying after him. “No bathing in front of others! Check. Talk to the Commander after dinner and maybe he can figure something out for you.”

“I’ll do that, thank you,” Neil said, taking Nicky’s olive branch.

“We’ll stop by the supply room and get you some clothes,” Nicky said, examining Neil’s worn shirt and breeches. “You’re practically swimming in those.”

“They fit me fine,” Neil grumbled.

Nicky ignored him. “At least, you’ll need extra sets of clothes. You can’t very well wash those ones every night.”

Neil didn’t respond as they headed inside. Nicky steered him to the supply room, back to his chattering self.

“So, tonight, there’s evening class for the recruits and meditation time. That’s required for everyone, even if you don’t have the Gift. But Matthew and the girls will be at dinner tonight, so you can finally meet the rest of the Foxes!”

Neil once again let Nicky’s words wash over him without responding, even letting the other man pick out the proper sized clothing for Neil’s small frame. Neil thought about his new comrades. Nicky didn’t seem too bad, although a bit too energetic for Neil’s tastes. Aaron was an asshole. Kevin was distant and haughty and also an asshole. And Andrew was – well, he was Andrew. Neil would avoid _that_ man as long as possible. Wymack seemed like he had a decent head on his shoulders. It probably wouldn’t be too bad taking orders from him. Maybe – just maybe – joining the Riders was the chance he had been waiting for. Maybe something good would finally come his way.

 


End file.
